Once upon a time there was a guy who became addicted to internet pornography. It was a gradual process, first exploring out of curiosity, then more out of desire and the need for satisfaction he “sampled all her killing store” to borrow a line from A.E. Housman in his aptly named poem, “Terrance This is Stupid Stuff”. (cause this definitely WAS stupid stuff) Nothing serious, this guy believed, as he continued to peer more and more. Nothing he couldn’t control he reasoned. Nothing he wanted to share he decided.
So the secret loomed. It grew. The darkness inside him grew. His ego, arrogance and sense of entitlement grew as well as he fed his growing addiction which he easily justified in his mind as he searched for acknowledgment and sense of worth from others. Chat rooms, which were
relatively new at the time, played right into his realm and he flourished there. It was supposed to be fantasy, but it was in this so called make believe but oh so real world that he found what felt like true acceptance. Behind the veil of the monitor he was accepted, loved, even idolized by unseen women who actually wanted him and said they needed him to talk with them. What could be wrong with this simple yet fulfilling diversion from life’s dreariness and relational problems? If someone gave him an
attitude or rejected his advances, there was always the block key and thousands of others who seemed to desire him unlike the one he chose as wife some twenty years earlier.
So he continued, addicted to the “high” he received and learned to long for, despite short stints of abstinence. He couldn’t rely on others who might try and stop him; he could only rely on himself. After all, he was in control. Women responded or not, and he viewed them not as people but agents of fulfillment with no real personality or life other than to please him. This attitude spilled over into his real life, how could it not? It was a train wreck waiting to happen, and was only a matter of time til his recklessness of chatting with any respondent would get him into trouble. The “winner” was a supposed under age teen who met all the requirements – interest in him and desire to talk to him and arouse him – but in reality was part of a sting operation. As the old adage says, “he bit hook, line and sinker” sacrificing his whole world as he knew it. He couldn’t control things his way as he had thought. It wouldn’t stay hidden, in the dark. Was it fair? Was it right?
Would this virtual fairy tale have a happy ending? How could it?
Since I am “that guy” , I will tell you the journey through inside corrections and how it unfolded.